Harry Potter and the Shining Trapisahedren
by kaiserdragon52
Summary: Harry Potter aquires a black stone that will change his life. He will, due to the stone, be lead on many adventures and have many questions to answer for. R and R.
1. Chapter 1

Ok. I'm going to try and make a good fic here. This is a cross between a section of the Outlanders series and Harry Potter. It'll have some interesting twists. Let me know what you think.

The bright light seared his eyes. He ducked under the beam, and shot a stunning curse at Voldamort. He rolled, and stood once more, facing him. Voldamort laughed at him. He swung his wand up to finish the boy.

Harry Potter was finally battling the man he started his adventure to kill. He stepped forward, throwing a jelly legs curse at Voldamort.

"I'm running out of ideas. I've tried everything," Harry thought.

He dodged another beam. From the brush to his left, a cloaked figure stepped forth.

"Run boy."

Without hesitation, Harry did just that. He turned and bolted. All was quiet as he wandered through the forest, hearing the cries behind him. He slowed to listen. He couldn't make out much.

A loud thud was heard by a loud, cold laugh. He turned and started to run. Stopping every so often, Harry heard footprints following him.

"Shit. I didn't cover my tracks.

He was running through some thick weeds. He looked behind him only to see the faint shadow following him. Voldamort was chasing Harry Potter. He decided fighting him wasn't the best of ideas.

Harry picked up his pace. He saw a near bye outlet of trees and so he ducked into it. He calmed his breathing, and took stock of himself. Other then a gash on his cheek, and the scratches and scrapes from the thorn branches on his shielding arms, he was all right. The footsteps slowed to a walk. Harry, staying concealed, watched. His suspicions were confirmed. The man that so daringly tried to save him failed. Harry gulped. He looked out, and saw the blood covering Lord Voldamort.

"Now or never."

Harry stepped out, facing his enemy. Voldamort stopped and stared.

"Harry. Nice of us to see each other again. Pity I didn't have time to clean up wouldn't you say?"

"I guess so. Who was that?"

"Oh him? Your father. You didn't know he was one of the Masked Fighters did you kid."

"My father? You murdered him!"

"Not exactly. You see. He got the first blow. I intend to put little Nina and your whore of a mother to rest in the burning flames beside him. Following that, you. Or maybe I'll let you watch.

Harry stared in astonishment at Voldamort. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed.

As a boy of only 16, Harry had never lost his family before. He stepped back, looking up at Voldamort. He sighed, "Not exactly anyways."

"Can I give you some friendly advice, nephew? Stand still and make it easy!

"Ever sense you declared yourself a dark wizard, uncle, I swore I'd come after you"

"Missing school even? Well. Isn't that smart? Self-teaching only gets you so far. Your mother wasn't even stupid enough to forget that. But, oh well. You're here, and I'm going to have to kill you. But sense we're family and all, let me do the honors of humoring you."

"Why? Why didn't you join the Masked Fighters like my father, your brother, did? You know you'd be well off there."

"I didn't because I wanted to be out of his shadow for once. I wanted to be the one to be recognizes. It's always James this, James that, Never Tom! Never!"

"How did you come up with a nifty name for yourself?"

I took my mother's maiden name, riddle, and my middle name Movolo, and formed it."

Harry knew this part of it, he felt dumb for asking the question. He looked down on the green snake on his arm, the symbol of the Masked Fighters. The piece keepers in the warring world. The group he, Harry James Potter, would die a part of.

"It's no big deal is it? So I wanted to be different. I told your father that, and he supported me. It's his fault I'm so powerful."

"Why?"

"I told him all I wanted to do was to run my own school. I didn't want to be a piece keeper."

"Where's your school!" Harry spouted, interrupting him.

"I call my organization, the school of mischief, you should know that Harry. We're organized. We teach our young. Professor Dumbledoor from Hagwartz suggested that."

"Snape will never allow him to continue. Dumbledoor was killed this morning."

"Ahh yeah. I know. He's no longer needed. The old git was in a wheelchair anyways. St Mungo's can't heal everything you know. Well, not that curse I put on him. You see, he swore I'd be the leader of the faction. He swore that I'd be the one to make everyone proud. What did he do? He stole the spotlight. He took my show! My ideas and worked them."

"Wasn't he just trying to help?"

"Uh. No."

Harry's sweating face paled. He finally realized he didn't want to be here. He had to bring the order back into this world, if he could make it out alive.

The ministry was corrupt. They just wanted to take the gold the wizards gave them and build themselves better lives. After the ministry went on strike, and was eventually destroyed by it's own workers, the laws were dropped with it. Anarchy issued. For 130 years after, the world was made up of good and evil.

The Piece Fighters were formed, and. This group grew to be big, and was almost successful. Seth Riddle made sure his organization of Simba's, evil incarnates, put a stop to that.

The Simba's were members of the piece fighter's own families, friends, and acquaintances. The piece fighters spread the word for joining, and eventually were destroyed by the Simba's through the inside. The Simba's took over.

All hope wasn't lost, however. A small group formed themselves and renamed. They were now the Masked Fighters. Wearing masks and all black with a green snake on the sleeve of their robes, they concealed themselves and swore a magical pact that they wouldn't let their secret escape them.

It did, however. One pact member didn't join the pact. He was going to be accepted, when a Simba attack overthrew their camp. The induction was presumed finished, and he let it slip. From there, the secret piece keeping organization was loose.

One thing he didn't learn, however, was the member of it. They always dealt with him in masks.

After the Simba's tortured and killed many people, still not finding out that they were, they resigned.

Harry stepped forward. He looked up and down his uncle, turning his head to gaze past him into the blackened forest.

"I think it's time to die. I'm bored."

"Kill me then. You know my honor will live, and the Masked Fighters will hunt you eventually."

Oh. I know. That's why I'm not going to kill you. Look behind you."

"Ginny?"

Harry turned and stared at his lover of 3 years. She smiled, holding a bone knife in her hand.

"I love manipulation, honey. I knew I'd get a chance to fuck you over. The sex was good, but Tom gives it to me right. Nasty and dirty."

Harry's eyes fill with tears as his uncle laughs.

"I love you too sweety."

Harry recalled the memory of Ron, his friend, dying to his own mother's hand. Now, Harry, the lover, was going to die at his fiancé's.

"Kill me then."

Ginny's knife licked out, slashing a pare of lips in Harry's throat. The carotid artery severed, blood misted up and out over his lover's face. She waltzed up to him, placing his lips on his.

"Feel the kiss of death Harry my nephew, it'll be the last kiss you ever get."

Harry's knees weakening, he falls on his back. His vision dims, and eventually resolves to blackness. The last living memory he clutched onto, was that of Ginny's bloody lips on his paling ones. Her warm, snaking tongue, taking his mouth. Her moisture driving him into the pits of Hades.

The laughter too. His uncle was shrieking. Yet, somehow, Harry couldn't find it in his heart to except his death. He knew it was done only when life escaped him.

Remember the twists? It starts off with one of them. I hope you enjoyed my little plot I threw in here. I'm not going to reveal the truth yet. Let me know. Please review. I hope to keep this fic alive.


	2. Chapter 2, Dream Reflections

Don't own… All the story characters, for now, belong to either Rowling or James Axeler. A lot of the consept belonging to this story also belong to James Axeler.

Harry stood up from his bed in the Dersely's. He walked to the mirror, looking at his pale reflection. His dream was one of vividness. He couldn't forget the blood, and the murder.

Harry has had dreams of Lord Voldamort before, however, none like this. He still, 20 minutes after starting awake, could feel the kiss Ginny planted on his dying lips. He settled his breathing, and passed his small room.

Harry Potter was turning 17 today. It was shortly after midnight he had the dream. He was no longer under the magical ward that was surrounding him in the Dersley's house. He heard his uncle cough. He sat at his desk, and wrote the dream in a book. He closed it, and placed it under the loose floorboard again.

With a jolt, he remembered it was his own birthday. A serge of fear washed through him. He wondered what he'd do without the magic? He decided he'd have to leave the Dersley's to protect them. He set his alarm, and fell asleep

He awoke with a start at 5:30 A.M, like he was supposed to on a normal day. Going downstairs, his aunt regarded him with a look of loathing.

"You woke me boy," she spat at him. Flecks of spittle flying from her mouth like the spray of a wave against the wind.

"Sorry. How did I wake you?"

"Screaming about "Ginny, how could you!" quite comical if I did say so myself. You're never one to scream out during a dream. What was it? Someone shooting rabbets they got out of a hat at the end of their, wand?"

Petunia spoke the last word with hatred in her voice. At that time, Dudley walked downstairs and began ravaging the fridge.

"Not yet sweety. Breakfast will be cooked, now Harry."

Harry sighed and got the pans out He threw down some bacon, eggs, and paced around the kitchen. Vernon came next, paper in hand, sitting at the table. Vernon didn't even regard Harry.

"I'm not going to eat today," he said swiftly. "Harry's cooking. The last few times I've been sick."

Harry knew this wasn't true. He had seen his uncle gag himself after eating. In a talk alone, it was "to rid myself of your magical poison."

Harry didn't understand this. Uncle Voldamort, no wait, Vernon, wasn't usually this harassing first thing in the morning.

"Maybe I'm just overdoing it. Maybe I'm just worried something will happen in the coming months. Maybe I'll go see my true family and relax."

"True family?"

"Yeah. You, Dudley, aren't true to me. The weesely's are my family. They've done more for me then you'll ever do."

Harry took the food off, and dished it out. Dudley, with 3 Twinkies in hand, put them on his over-filled plate and sat down to eat.

Harry surveyed the kitchen quietly. Vernon drinking his tea, Petunia eating pickily, and Dudley shoving whatever he can find into his open fat mouth. Harry, deciding he wasn't hungry, left for his room. Without much thought, he grabbed a piece of paper and decided to send a letter to Ron.

Dear Ron,

How are you? I just had a wicked dream. It was scary as fuck, but at the same time it was awesome. Graphic violence, and your sister were in it too. In fact, she killed you. Anyways, it's probably nothing. I did, after all, for fun, take one of Fred and George's dream modifying pills. It was probably that.

Anyways, How's things at the burrow. I'm thinking of coming earlier if you don't mind. It might be nothing, but I'm afraid to be here due to the magical word and all. Anyways, write me back bro.

Harry

He sent the letter off to Hedwig, cursing himself at lying to his friend. He didn't take one of those pills, and he didn't want anyone to worry over a stupid dream. It didn't happen here anyways.

Being the powerful wizard in everyone's eyes anyway, he would know if "Simba's", whatever they were, existed here. It wasn't so. He sighed, and opened a book and sat to read.

Later on that day, when his relatives where watching the evening news, he gathered his trunk, sneaking out through his window. He allowed his trunk to fall with a thud. Next came Hedwig's cage, crashing to fragments on his trunk.

Harry surveyed the sight below. He was on the second story. He was in a predicament. Not thinking, he launched himself out of the window, and landed, rolling, in the safety of Petunia's flowers. Getting up, he repaired his trunk and shattered cage.

"I can do that now. Cool."

He levitated the trunk, and set off through the darkness. He made a final trip by the park and sat on the swings. His belongings leaning on the slide reminded him of Ginny.

They were together not long before, and now? Now nothing. Harry had ruined that for himself. It's his own fault.

Shrugging mentally to clear his mind, he swung quietly.

"I can't go there," he said allowed, allowing his thoughts to land on the burrow. "Not with the words, and Voldamort wanting my death."

He contemplated where else he could go. Grimmald place was an option, however, he didn't know if sense the secret keeper was dead if it would still be unseen. He couldn't go there anyways. Serious lived there.

Pulling his trunk towards him, he opened it. Pulling out Serious' mirror, he gazed into it. He saw nothing but a mist of black.

"Serious. Why did you die on me? I didn't even get to say goodbye. Well, tell dad hi for me. I want you to tell them all you know about my friends and me. I'm sure mom would be upset about the time I got myself into the tri-wizard tournament, and all the other pranks, mischief, and everything else I've caused if she doesn't know all ready."

The mirror's blackness shifted. Harry didn't notice. He was looking out at the sky.

"It's upsetting. All my family dies. Maybe that's why I won't be with Ginny. What would you do serious? I'm afraid to even go to Bill's wedding. I don't want that to get messed up either. I seem to love causing trouble. Maybe I got too much from dad. Please, Serious, if you can hear me, take care, and goodbye."

Harry had never officially said goodbye. He looked down at the mirror now. He saw blackness. Wait a minute, no he didn't.

Harry almost dropped the mirror with what he saw in it.

A figure, too lean to be normal, stood there pacing slightly. Its domed skull was hairless. Leading to its squat neck, on lean, yet somehow frail, shoulders.

The arms and legs were too big for the torso. He noted the hands held 6 fingers instead of 5.

Harry noticed the most captivating feature were the eyes. Large, dark, and seemingly endless. Those eyes boar into his own. Harry was unable to take his gaze away from them.

"Harry Potter," the voice said calmly, yet with a hint of arrogance. "I am Ballam."

I know the story started off with a weird twist. Also, due to the image verification and my being blind, I can't log onto the site yet. I should have more then this chapter up by then, but we'll see. I hope everyone takes an interest in the story.

Should Harry get back with Ginny? Or should he not. If so, please let me know before I write him going to the burro. The next chapter will be interesting, although maybe a bit boring. I'm sorry. It'll help fill in some of the missing plot, and set up the story. Please review. Flamers, I do say, will find themselves dying horribly and miserably in the chapters to come, I assure you. Just something that might return the favor of a "u suck ass." At least tell me why I suck ass. Have fun, kids!


	3. Chapter 3, The Enemy Revieled

So I had to read another fic before updating. I'm going to put the last few lines in the chap here so I, and you readers, don't forget what's going on. Sorry if this chap is boring, however, it's needed. If only I could make it as long as other stories… Anyways. On with it. Before I forget though, don't own, bla bla bla.

"Harry Potter," the voice said calmly, yet with a hint of arrogance. "I am Ballam."

"How did you get a hold of this mirror!" Harry exclaimed coldly at the person, thing that had his Godfather's mirror.

"I acquired when Serious passed on. I'm must unfortunate about his passing. However, it was necessary. I know this raises anger within you. Let me explain."

Ballam paused, looking into Harry's eyes. Harry, looking still into those black fathomless eyes, couldn't stop the outburst.

"Who are you?"

"It shouldn't be who, as much as what."

"Explain," Harry demanded.

"I intended to. I am an Archon. I believe, am certain, you haven't heard of me. I will only be able to provide little here, and leave you with questions. That however is expected. In due time your questions will be answered. Now, on with it.

I am what you would consider as a race you'd never hear about on the history of the earth. We helped in the shape of you. Wizards and non-wizards alike.

Our race started back over three millennia ago. We, the creature of the humans, were born of two other races, which I will not mention at this time. It's irrelevant.

The Archons made several contacts throughout history. World war II, Merlin, and even you former headmaster, received our help. He didn't know it, however, his phoenix did. I possessed the bird to provide some useful information on advising you, Harry."

Harry looked perplexed at this. He looked at Ballam's face in the mirror. He sighed to himself, barely able to keep his voice to a minimum.

"You brought me up?"

"Not at all. I merely poked Dumbledore in the right direction. His death was not needed, nor did I take it lightly. It was, however, something I couldn't ignore. So here I am leaving contact up to us again. You, however, are one of the first in this casement to see me.

Your enemy, Tom, has acquired the help of a similar being. This one, is that of human, Archon, and machine. His mane will be of no important.

I'm here to forewarn you Harry. You will need to do things I bid to make this war end for the wizards and non wizards alike."

Harry sighed, taking all the new information in.

"I'm going to show you something Harry. It'll be tonight when you sleep. I suggest you make for your family and love. You know where to go."

Ballam's face vanished. Harry sat on the swing, dumbfounded at the message told to him.

Gathering his thoughts, Harry stuck out his right arm. With a bang, the night buss stopped nearly in his lap. Stan Shunpike stepped out, and bowed.

"Greetings. How may I," he stopped, seeing who sat in front of him on the swing. "Let me get that Mr. Potter."

Stan and Harry together tossed his belongings in the buss, and Stand asked where he'd like to go. Being the only passenger, he was at the burrow in no time.

"He gathered his things and set up towards the home he loved.

Mrs. Weesely sat with her daughter, talking animatedly about their plans for the summer. They had a cup of tea in front of them, and Ginny's legs swung idly, brushing the tips of her bare toes on the wooden floor.

"Mom? What's that glint in your eye for?

"It's Harry's birthday! Did you send him a letter?"

With the mention of the name, the young girl's head hit the table with a thud.

"What's wrong dear?"

"I don't want to talk about him. Not now mother, and won't for a while!" She outburst.

"Ginny, please, do not talk to me like that," Mrs. Weesely said, almost yelling.

"Sorry mum," was all that accompanied the upset girl to leave.

"I'll do it. I guess there's no harm."

At that time, she heard a knock on her door, and grabbed her wand. Running to the door, she yelled, "Who's there?"

"It's Harry," Harry said.

Arthur Weesely, hearing the knock rand downstairs, naked, with his wand in hand.

"I didn't have time to dress. The death eaters are here! Leave now before I open up hexing, dark one!"

Harry sighed, and reached for the door. "If they won't open, I will."

When the door was pushed open, a hex flew past his ear. Harry wad forced to drop to his stomach to dodge. His black cloak was tucked over his head.

"Die follow or You Know Who!"

"Mr. Weeseley, aaahhhh!"

Harry rolled and jumped to his feet. Hex after hex flew his way, and he jumped out of the way, squashing a chicken as he moved. He jumped at Arthur, knocking him to the ground. He then revived a punch to the nose.

"Death eater!" Was all Mr. Weesely got out before a redhead army flew out the door, knocking Harry to his back?

Harry, tossing Ron off him, stood, and caught a blast of light in the face. His cloak started on fire. George had charged him, club in hand.

Casting off the cloak, Harry ducked, taking the blow on his shoulder, hearing a loud crunch. Running past, he jumped up two stairs at a time, bursting through the first door he saw. To his dismay, he saw a red haired beauty lying on the bed.

He couldn't get a glimpse of the face, however, he slammed the door regardless, collapsing to the ground, nursing his shoulder.

The girl turned to look at him, realizing who it was, her eyes becoming dispassionate.

Down with the other Weesely's, Molly picked up the burning cloak. She turned towards her husband, and said, "Ginny!"

Ron beat her upstairs, and burst through the door, breaking the stare down.

"Mate? What the bloody fuck is you doing here? Mum and dad are going to kill ya!" He said with a smile.  
"Wouldn't be the first Weesely to try," he said, looking at Ginny sheepishly, "She almost did it at the end of second year, remember?"

Harry stood, nursing his shoulder as George ran up the stairs. He took one glance at his club, then the death eater standing before him.

"Sorry mate. Hope I broke your shoulder."

"Yeah. That would have been cool. Then we could use our mending mints."

"Yeah. Is it broken Harry? Is it?"

"That's enough, kids," Mrs. Weesely ran up, bulling George aside.

"What are you doing here Harry? The order is going to be angry with this."

"I'm not following an order of the order, no pun intended, but of, someone else. Myself," Harry quickly lied.

"I'll get the mint!" George said, running.

"Come downstairs. We all owe you an apology," she said, tears moistening in her eyes, "I'm sorry."

"I understand. Even though, next time, believe me?"

Downstairs they all went, a shocked Ginny following. George, grabbing Harry by the shoulder pressed a mint into his hand. Harry, popping it into his mouth without thinking, followed.

By the time he arrived, his arm was now feeling remarkably better. He looked at Gred and Forge.

"Well, that worked nicely eh mate?"

"It did Fred,"

"It did not!" an enraged Molly Weesely shouted.

Harry looked down at his, 13, arms, making a mental note that he knew it was a bad idea to try those mints.

"Sure it did. He's got 12 working arms now."

Mrs. Weesely, cooking, yelling, slapping, summoning, and fixing Harry was a busy woman. Harry, two properly working arms, ate hungrily.

"Bed," was all Mrs. Weesely said before pushing him upstairs. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Ballam was looking up and down Harry again.

"I'm going to send you an image."

Harry nodded, and felt a caress on his mind. Not like that of a wizard reading his mind, but he automatically threw up his defenses.

"Don't fight me It's futile," the voice said.

The form of a human formed in Harry's mind. A red headed girl turned to face him, stone pale, and crying. The image flashed to that of him kissing her after the quiddage game.

"She's someone you might consider talking with."

The image then was interrupted. Ballam's form vanished, and a man in black, standing next to Lord Voldamort swam into view. The newcomer had adjusted his shades and began to speak.

"Hello. I've been, meddling, if you'd like to call it that. My friend Tom here said you should know something from him. They are hidden; no thanks to me I can say. Actually I can't. I don't remember which one is true in your casement's time."

"The both of the are true good sir Thrush."

"Right, thanks tom. Anyways. Consider this a friendly meeting. Hope we don't meet again, Harry."

"As for me, good friend. I'll plant you with your muggle loving parents soon enough. Prepare to die on your precious girl's birthday. She'll like my present."

A crude laugh followed. Harry's eyes flew open, and he was on the floor. The whole Weesely family surrounding him.

Cliffhanger, again. I'm hoping to get reviews. Sorry if my formatting sucks. I can't see it after it's posted. My screen reader reads it fine. If someone, however, would like to help me with this thing called, what was it? Oh yeah. Editing let me know. Suggestions and criticisms welcome.


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